


Sympathy For The Devil

by CenterAxisRelock



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CenterAxisRelock/pseuds/CenterAxisRelock
Summary: Ash wakes Thermite up from a nightmare. He trusts her to listen.





	Sympathy For The Devil

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically my headcanon about how Thermite got his notorious, iconic scars, and what better way to tell it than an intimate moment between my OTP?

_"Stop."_

_"Let me go."_

Eliza's eyes popped open, launching her out of a rather pleasant dream and back to the pitch black bedroom in Texas.

Jordan usually was the kind of sleeper who valued feeling comfortable, particularly after years in the military where he got to enjoy sleeping sometimes in vehicles, sometimes on bunks which were only marginally better than the ground, or if he was particularly lucky, in holes that he himself had to dig. That is, if the Marine got any sleep at all, which often was a luxury. Thermite liked taking advantage of every soft spot on a bed, stretching across it and claiming the territory for his snooze. Ash had learned this shortly after they began actually sleeping together in the literal sense of the word; even if their bodies were apart when falling into slumber, she often woke up with Jordan's arm draped across her body, or occasionally even having been pulled into a bear hug, acting like an extra pillow for him. She often grumbled a bit, just to keep up appearances, but admittedly sleeping with her favourite Texan wrapped around her had its perks.

Now, though, he had uncharacteristically retreated to the other side of the bed and locked his body in a bundle, in a protective cocoon of sorts. What worried Eliza even more was his movements.

His breathing was rapid, upper body trashing back and forth. The sounds Thermite made were even worse, in his sleep, he was pretty unintelligible, but she could make out grunts of protest, even worse, groans of pain. It wasn't like Jordan to show any sort of discomfort, a trait that usually did him more harm than good. Eliza's heart skipped a beat. The Texan was as healthy as a horse, no way he could've gotten ill all of a sudden? _Could he? Has to be a nightmare, right?_

Yet another desperate grunt. "No. Please."

Ash couldn't bear to have him gone in whatever hellhole he was in right now, real or not. She leaned over and squeezed his bicep, softly at first, then firmly, after a lack of reaction. "Jordan?"

Thermite finally swung around. His usually confident eyes were shooting around nervously, his face was pale and mouth slightly agape, no hints of the trademark smirk that always made something light up in her. The room was mildly warm, but his back was soaked with sweat.

"'Liza?"

"Are you okay? You were…talking in your sleep."

Reality slowly came back, lifting him out of the depths in his nightmare. Sensations crept back. Warm touches on his body. Tips of her fingers tracing the outline of his scars on his forearm. _You're safe._

Jordan could sense the shaking subside, calming down under her light touch. "Think so. Did I say anything interesting?" He tried to smile, but it came off as utterly fake.

Thermite felt her comforting fingers on his scruffy chin, Ash's touch soft and reassuring, nudging his head up for their eyes to meet. All of the Marine's usual internal alarms, the ones that made him build iron walls around him, make him invulnerable, hiding behind a smirk, a joke and rock steady confidence, were slowly crumbling in the background. Jordan let his desperate blue orbs meet her hazel eyes, a rare showing of vulnerability. The moment when he was done.

"Bad dream?" Eliza's inquiry was gentle, uncharacteristic of her fiery nature.

Thermite's breathing stabilized, with no little effort from the man himself, though the worried tone in his voice still persisted. "Uh, yeah. Somethin' like that."

She knew the man well enough that forcing him down a certain path was as likely as trying to fight the rising sun. "Want to tell me about it?" Ash wasn't the one to give people a way out, butting heads until she got what she wanted, but this wasn't that time.

His lips were suddenly dry as a desert. "It's nothing, really. Well-, nah, it's not a pretty story."

"Never was one for pretty stories, Jordan. I'm here if you need me."

Eliza turned back for a moment and handed him a glass of water that the Texan had a habit of putting down next to her side of the bed. She could see the worry pass from his eyes, replaced with trust, then with hunger as he gulped down the water like a dying man. After giving her back the empty glass, Jordan lied there on his stomach, not an inch away from her body, still awake and enjoying the sudden peace for a few minutes. Eliza let him keep the comfortable silence, until he chose to break it. "Well. It was about one of my tours."

_Ah._

She didn't say anything, letting him continue at his own pace.

"I don't really trash in my sleep that often, so you don't need to worry."

"You don't need to justify yourself, Jordan."

His fingers moved to squeeze her shoulder in silent gratitude. "I'm sure you've noticed these beauties." He lifted up one of his hands, burn scars reaching nearly up to his elbow.  

Ash had wondered, of course, where he'd gotten them, as did everyone else on the team. Those were not the kinds of scars you'd see and write off on a simple training accident or an unlucky wound during a mission. They all had some of those. Eliza even had asked around, though nobody knew the truth, since Jordan, despite his chatty nature and love for impressing others around him with his stories, had never revealed anything to anyone, even to his closest friends on the team. Since he had already arrived at the FBI with these scars, only his former Marine brothers in arms would've known the reason behind his injuries, and Eliza knew better than to press further. Everyone had their own demons to forget, she figured.

Ash didn't feel the need to ask – she would never press, as someone who understand the burden of combat herself – but he looked like he was aching to tell someone this. Like he's been waiting for a long time. "I'm listening. It's up to you, Jordan." She was never one for reassurance, for gentleness. But with him, right then, it felt so natural.

Thermite's hand slid down her shoulder and formed a fist, pressing it tightly into the mattress, as if gathering resolve. "I've never told anyone this, you know. Outside the Marines." Jordan blinked as if trying to find a focus point somewhere in the room and his gaze settled for a point on the blanket in front of him.

"It was the very end of my first tour. Years-wise, I was still a young buck, but the shit that I had seen, I felt like an old man right then. Kills under my belt, friends that I had already lost." He took a sharp breath, as if shaking off a bad train of thought. "We were on a patrol, ridin' through the town with our Humvees, in a column, slow as shit, but we were a cocky bunch and intel indicated that the area should be clear. Still, it was fucking tight, lots of buildings so I kept cool."

Jordan spoke, in a very somber manner, his usually pleasant Southern accent tainted with a tone of regret, unlike any story he had told before. "Me and the radioman – Williams – were yammerin' about some stupid shit. Football. Dude was a Giants fan, you know." He barked a bitter laugh. "Still then, it was the worst thing I could've thought of."

Whatever sound Thermite intended to make next got lost somewhere in his chest. He paused for a bit, lips forming in a thin line, and continued. "You might guess it didn't stay that way so long. I don't know what was it  - an IED, and RPG, whatever, didn't matter. What mattered was that our leading vehicle got fucked. Blown to bits, the largest thing left of those guys there was an arm. We were the third vehicle in the convoy, gunfire started raining down upon our left flank and we couldn't move a fuckin' inch neither forwards nor back – the end of the convoy was catching bullets as well."

He insistently kept looking in one certain spot as if trying to paint a picture he described.

"I told the guys – fuck it, we're not gonna die as sittin' ducks – and got outside to lay down suppressive fire at the building where most of those fuckers were shooting from. We responded well as we could've – damn hard bastards, what can I say. I returned fire and took quite a bunch of them down. Guess that should make me feel better, right? It did, for a while. Then our Humvee got hit. The guys were in there. I was the only one outside. Felt the shrapnel dig into my shoulder and my sleeve catch fire. Wasn't gonna let any of that stop me."

Thermite wiped newly formed sweat away from his brow.

"Whatever it was that hit our Humvee, knocked me on my ass. At first I was glad to still have my legs."

He paused and took a careful breath. Eliza squeezed his solid upper arm.

"The Humvee went up in flames. My guys couldn't get out. I was on my feet in seconds, but it was too late. I don't remember much exactly.  The smell. I had been in some pretty bad places before, but I'll never forget that. Being so close to burning flesh."

For someone who always matched people word for word, Eliza wasn't able to find anything to say at that moment. Nothing at all.

Jordan's voice, however, grew louder and frantic. "I tried to get near the door, the heat was unbearable. Burnin' limbs moving around. I could see my radioman. I tried to pull him out, tried to stick my hands through the open window. I felt his goddamn forearm – at least a piece of his flesh, maybe not even his – and started to pull. He was stuck, clutching on for dear life, screaming as nothing I've ever heard before. The screams...there ain't a thing I can say to describe them. And those were tough guys, 'Liza. Toughest I've ever known. They were begging for someone to pull them out. Looking back, there was absolutely nothing I could've done. But I had to try."

He finally looked up at Ash and his eyes said it all. _I had to try._

Determined to finish, to get it off his chest, he continued. "I didn't feel the flames at first. Adrenaline's the fucking devil, you know. But I couldn't get a good enough grip on him. His flesh was coming off his bone, Williams was melting alive. And then, my arms started to feel the blaze. One hell of a thing, to smell your own burnin' skin. Then suddenly, I lost my grip altogether. Thought that my arms had fallen off. Maybe they would've, if two sergeants and a lance corporal hadn't pulled me back. I fought, furious as all hell. Think I punched one of them. Then I saw my arms, the fabric of my uniform burnt black. The pain hit me. I tried to grab my rifle, probably out of reflex, but couldn't hold it."

The scarred thumb started rubbing gentle circles against her skin.

"I thought I was gonna die. Or, at least, beg to be killed soon. They dragged me into a Humvee that was still in one piece, the ambush gradually got repelled. It's just us that had to be the sacrificial lions, y'know. Luck of the Irish."

_Jordan…_

"The docs told me that I'd have heavy scarring, but since they pulled me back quickly enough, my hands would heal, as good as ever. I'd be able to come back, do what I'm best at. I didn't care. All I could think was that damn smell. And when I didn't think of the smell, I thought of the screaming. Thought that I could've gotten my boys out, at least one of them. If I had fucked up my hands for good but saved one, it would be a small price to pay. I got arms that aren't pretty to look at. They had their families. I had jack shit. Sole fuckin' survivor."

Eliza felt his breath shake a bit. For a moment, she realized that not once in her life she ever thought of Thermite being able to cry. If he did, she would hold him. She hoped he knew that.

However, he kept his composure, drawing in a slow, quiet breath and focusing his eyes on her. And through those icy blues, she could tell that he knew.

Jordan's voice was steadier now. "I don't dream about Iraq much. I don't even think of it. Did what I had to do and I ain't gonna pity myself over it. But when I do dream about it…it's usually this. So, yeah. That's what I went nuts about on you." He looked at her as if waiting for a judgement.

"I'm sorry, Jordan. I'm sorry."

"Ain't nobody's fault. Took me a while to realize that."

Eliza's hands ran over Thermite's back in slow strokes, trying to pull him closer. He obliged, yearning for the contact, and put his chin on her chest.

She let her fingers roam across his short hair, a soothing touch. "Come here. God, I can't even begin to imagine."

Thermite's lips moved into a weak half smile and light started to creep back in his eyes.  "Yeah, well. Look at me. What a fuckin' mess."

Disbelief and a slight pinch of anger ran through Ash at his pointless self loathing. "You launched yourself _into the fire_ , Jordan. How many people would do that?"

He scoffed at her remark, as he usually did when getting praised for heroism that he considered just another day at the job. But Eliza couldn't let it slide. "Remember that mess of a mission in Caracas half a year ago?"

The Texan locked his gaze with her, slightly confused. "Damn straight I do. Don't think that hole in my right thigh is gonna stop remindin' me."

"And do you remember whose rappel failed and who nearly snapped her ankle in half?"

His right thumb started to stroke the redhead's shoulder, instantly heating up her skin. "Might recall something like that, sure."

"And maybe you do remember who hoisted me up and carried me all the way to the fucking chopper? I'm pretty sure that wasn't Vincente. Who helped me take my gear off because I was literally shaking with anger? Who had to be yelled out of the infirmary by Kateb? Who sat with me all goddamn night because I was high on painkillers and couldn't stop going over and over that clusterfuck assignment?"

Thermite smiled one of those "it ain't a thing" smiles that made Ash feel like literally nothing could ever go wrong and pressed his lips to the side of her breast in a kiss. "What else was I supposed to do?" he murmured, lifting his eyes to look at hers once again. "Let you hobble all the way to the bird?"

"You were there when I needed it, Jordan," she felt her voice tremble, just a bit. "And I never even had a doubt that you were gonna be. So now it's my turn."

"Thank you, 'Liza." He hoped she knew how much that meant to him.

"You don't have to."

Jordan pressed his bearded cheek against her chest. His breathing was perfectly calm now and in a while, he had almost nodded off. "Sorry, I'll roll over in a moment. Probably suffocatin' you."

"You will stay where you are, tough guy." Ash wrapped her arms around him, pressing the Texan's body tighter to hers. He was indeed heavy, but she couldn't care less.

The Marine's eyes slowly fluttered shut, feeling comfortable enough to sleep again. "Yes ma'am."

She felt herself smile at his deep, relaxed purr. "Easy to crack, aren't you?"

Thermite pressed another kiss to her skin. "Only to you."

Both operators laid like this until Ash could hear his silent snoring. The next day, neither Eliza nor Jordan talked about the conversation that was way more significant to each of them than they'd like to admit.

But, from then on, she made sure to squeeze his hand a little tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for sticking with me and I'm sorry that I haven't posted for so long. I've been busy with work and general life stuff, but I promise that my next fic release will come sooner. I'm not super active on Tumblr anymore (though I plan to up my activity) but for those who want to talk about R6 and other stuff, feel free to PM me on tumblr (center-axis-relock) for an invite to a Rainbow Six Siege Discord server. As always, cheers for all the support!


End file.
